Tajine Msir Zeetoon

Last week when I wrote about tandoori cooking, I was thinking about a friend who had guided us through the menu at a local Indian restaurant some years back. An Indian from Bombay, he knew the dishes intimately and soon had the staff bringing out all sorts of treasures that we might otherwise have not been brave enough to sample.

The tandoor oven was in a glassed-in room but Hemendra insisted he and I have a closer look and charmed his way into the inner sanctum. I soon had a dew on my brow and a much better understanding of this method of cooking as we penetrated the chef's space.

A day after I had written my piece I was shattered to hear Hemendra had died suddenly that morning.

He was an architect and had worked closely with The Spouse on numerous newspaper plant projects over a dozen or so years. He quickly became a good friend and we shared numerous Sunday brunches together with him and one of his colleagues and their respective wives.

When we returned to Wellington last year and decided to renovate our home here, he willingly gave us some input and we ended up with a far more vibrant colour scheme and a more adventurous carpet than we would have sought out ourselves. The painters were hugely enthusiastic as they slathered on sleek aubergine, moody greeny-grey, and deep plum on feature walls, a nice counterbalance to warm creams on the other walls.

We owed Hemendra a meal for his help, but unfortunately it was not to be. Sometimes we think we have all the time in the world to get together with those special friends around the dining table. We are inclined to worry about perfect meal, perfect setting when really, most people are just happy to get together and catch up.

There was a time when I would knock myself out to produce the perfect meal. I can recall one of my more dedicated affairs. It was a labour of love because I knew the two guests would appreciate it.

We started with a light and frothy watercress soup, inspired by a few lines in a book I had been reading, where such a soup had been "lightly misted" with chives. It was served with a nutty sherry.

This led onto a rack of veal I remember tying little bundles of carrot matchsticks with wilted chives. The secret here is to loosely tie a bundle of carrot sticks then poke in three or four extras once the knot is tied. If you microwave the bundles, they will hold together. I think we had broccoli with toasted almonds and scalloped potatoes to accompany.

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